


A Kind of Mania

by SapphoIsBurning



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Community: wrestlingkink, Crack, Kink Meme, M/M, Magical Accidents, Soul Bond, This is well and truly crack, WrestleMania, wyatt family shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 17:49:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7542196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphoIsBurning/pseuds/SapphoIsBurning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Ambrose didn't think the biggest challenge in facing Brock Lesnar at Wrestlemania would come in the form of Xavier Woods and a creepy magic lantern. But when they form a strange inexplicable connection backstage, the day dramatically changes course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Kind of Mania

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sanidine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanidine/gifts).



> Thanks to Sanidine for some timely encouragement that I share this with the world.
> 
> It's also a kinkmeme fill for the very fitting prompt, ["Dean gets an accidental soulbond at Wrestlemania"](https://wrestlingkink.dreamwidth.org/279.html?thread=645399#cmt645399).

Xavier figured out later, much later, that the lantern was supposed to have exploded in the ring. It would have showered the entire arena in orgone energy and truly made the stage the grandest stage of them all, something no one would ever forget, something to punish the company for ignoring Bray’s threats. Exactly what was supposed to happen when this occult pipe bomb went off, no one could say, because after the incident, the Wyatts were nowhere to be found. Smart of them—lots of people wanted to have some words, like Roman, Kofi, Big E, oh, the whole roster...but Xavier and Dean most of all. Except they were busy. Because the lantern exploded on them.

They were arguing backstage about why Dean kept refusing to be on an episode of Up Up Down Down; in retrospect, a petty thing to be fighting about while killing time before making your Wrestlemania entrance, but everyone was full of nerves and keyed up.

“I don’t do video games,” Dean said, gritting his teeth.

“Come on,” Xavier said. “Summer Rae and I played a Barbie game. Jericho played Ms. Pac Man. We can find something. It’s an excuse to sit around and talk! It’s a talk show.”

“Maybe I don’t feel like talking,” Dean said, frowning.

“You love talking. You’re the only one here who probably likes talking more than me,” Xavier retorted.

Dean stepped into Xavier’s space, gesturing widely with his hand. “Dammit, why do you—”

And that was when he knocked it over. Bray had left the lantern sitting on top of a pile of unused folding tables.

The glass shattered and a concussive, acrid wave hit Dean and Xavier, knocking them to the floor. Curls of mist wrapped around them, entwining the both of them. Their bodies tingled as they tried to get to their feet and get away from the burning vapor. Dean reached out to grab Xavier’s hand. When they touched, the fire turned into ice, but Dean still dragged Xavier out of the blast zone.

They got away from the mist and within the range of some fire sprinklers that had gone off. Water streamed over the both of them, at least rinsing off some of whatever they had been doused in. People came running to see what was the matter, but Dean waved them off. Xavier was doubled over, coughing.

“Breathe, here, somebody get me some fucking water! What the fuck was that? I’m going to kill that motherfucking beard-faced son of a bitch!”

Xavier spat on the ground and wiped the back of his mouth with his hand. “It wasn’t tear gas. Probably not sarin, we’d be dead by now.”

“I don’t know what that is, but okay.” Dean pulled his shirt off over his head and wiped his face with it, using it to wipe his skin. Then he wiped Xavier’s face before he realized that was a rather intimate invasion of someone else’s personal space, but Xavier did not stop him.

Tears streamed from Xavier’s eyes. He coughed once more.

Dean put his arm around Xavier’s shoulder to hold him up. Security were coming running, and firefighters now too, trying to deal with whatever had exploded. Dean took Xavier away from the scene, feeling an intense need to get away from the crowds of people backstage. He hauled Xavier into the first empty room with an open door he found and slammed the door without any protest from the other man.

When the door was closed, they kissed. It was hard to say who initiated it, but they surged against each other, grappling, tongues pressing and mingling, Xavier running has hands up Dean’s now bare chest. Dean dropped the wet shirt he had been clutching.

After a moment, they broke away, each looking at the other with shock. Dean stepped back, trying to shake his head to clear the cobwebs.

“Why are we doing this?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know, you’re the one who dragged me into a dressing room!” Xavier said back.

“What was in that lantern? It feels like my body’s on fire,” Dean said, shivering. Xavier could see his hardness through the man’s tight jeans, and felt his own growing, thinking about...

“Oh god, what if it’s sex pollen,” Xavier said.

“What?”

“I bet they wanted to douse the whole roster...but it went off early. Just like Bray,” Xavier grimaced.

“I don’t want to think about Bray Wyatt and premature ejaculation in the same sentence,” Dean said. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“It’s the sex...lantern.”

“What happens if we ignore it? It’s nothing, probably just a special effect gone wrong.” Dean asked, inching toward Xavier before catching himself and folding his arms.

“Hard to say. We could die. Or it could just wear off.” Xavier adjusted himself. The other man looked so enticing, his tight nipples and defined pecs, the stubble on his face, the scent of his body.

“I have heard it’s good luck to have sex at ‘mania,” Dean said.

“Who told you that?”

“Cena.”

“Figures,” Xavier scoffed. He shook out his hand and arms.  “We can’t have sex, you’re not gay.”

“How do you know?” said Dean.

“Wait, are you?”

“...I don’t want to talk about this, what are we doing?”

“You had your tongue in my mouth a minute ago and you just told me your dick was a good luck charm.”

“I’m not gay. I can’t be gay.”

Xavier threw his hands up. “I can’t answer this one for you, dude.” He thought unsexy thoughts, trying to calm himself down. Zeb Coulter naked. Cold showers.

They stood in awkward silence.

“I’m sorry,” Dean said. “Your match is first anyway, go get your entrance gear on. Don’t want you to miss your cue.”

Xavier’s head swam thinking of leaving Dean, but he knew what he had to do. “We’ll talk more later.”

Dean nodded and waved him off. But as soon as Xavier was out the door of the room, Dean had his hand down his pants, desperately trying to beat off before anyone noticed him missing or saw his rock hard erection straining against his Relentless Jeans. He abused himself with practiced efficiency, coming in a potted plant and hoping no one would be the wiser. Other than Xavier, whose shock and warmth he could swear he could feel even though they were no longer in the same room.

Dean watched on the monitor as the New Day made their entrance from inside of a giant box of cereal. He felt more excited than he usually did to see them come out, but it was a special time of year, right? He blamed it on that. Couldn’t be the lantern. He didn’t even admit anything to Xavier in the heat of the moment. It was all plausibly deniable.

Kofi, E, and Xavier danced down the ring in their weird gold outfits. Did Xavier’s have a tail? He was into a lot of things, Dean guessed.

The League of Nations came out next, tripping over the fake cereal and looking surly.

It was when Xavier took a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker from Alberto del Rio that Dean knew something was extremely wrong. He felt the whole thing, wincing as the wind was knocked out of him. Tyler Breeze came over to check on him but he waved him off, as he tried not to stagger on his feet from the stiff enzuigiri Xavier just took. Dean backed up until he hit a wall, then slid down to sit on his heels, grounding himself against the cinder blocks.

And he got a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. Fucking Wyatt magic. If he was feeling everything Xavier was feeling, then if he had his hardcore match with Brock Lesnar, Xavier would feel every bit of that beatdown. Every broken rib, every chair shot. Every cut would bleed for both of them. Dean didn’t give a shit about causing somebody else pain  _ in  _ the ring, but this was different.

Big E dove out of the ring and took out three of his opponents, but the fourth one was still loose, and legal. It was looking bad for them, but it was also a non-title match, so while Dean could feel Xavier’s pain, he also felt a sense of his excitement, even as he was pinned.

Then Stone Cold Steve Austin, Mick Foley, and Shawn Michaels entered, and the excitement made sense. Soon enough, they were dancing with the New Day in the ring, and Dean’s chin stung as Xavier went down to the Stunner, somehow feeling elated about it. Dean tried to enjoy the positive emotion, at least.

They didn’t have time to talk about it as the New Day came backstage: Dean’s match was next. They made eye contact in passing. Xavier stopped suddenly, throwing himself at Dean, hugging him, patting him on the back and it felt amazing. They pulled away from each other without speaking and Dean got into position for his entrance.

He entered, trying to be as confident and brash and cocky as the leadup to this match promised. Was he really confident that he could end Lesnar? He could fake it pretty well. It was Dean Ambrose’s specialty. ‘Live the gimmick, right?’ he thought to himself.

Lesnar was out there looking like a sweaty baby-headed man with a gross cauliflower ear and no neck. Dean had a lot of respect for Paul Heyman as a man who gave so much to the business, but he couldn’t figure what was in it for him to represent this asshole.

Everything passed in a blur at first. Dean felt Xavier’s excitement to see the match, but as soon as Lesnar hit him with the first suplex, Xavier figured out what Dean already knew: they were connected in both pleasure and in pain. The audience was counting out loud: some people brought signs. Suplex number two was piquant: a stinging, familiar pain. Number three came at a point where Dean’s muscles were slightly numb from the previous one. He hoped that Xavier was at least getting the satisfaction of the rush of the fight half of the fight or flight response.

He got some good jabs in on old Brock, for sure; the low blow was particularly satisfying. Dean was never a person to shy away from fighting dirty, though he felt Xavier’s wince when it happened. Dean would have to give him some shit about that later, assuming they both survived this crazy night. He tried to project calm confidence while he went under the ring for some toys: kendo sticks, sure.

After around number six, though, Dean lost count of the suplexes and couldn’t really focus on the cards the smarks in the audience were holding up. Brock stepped on his fingers, crushing them. He felt panic surge in Xavier and both of their hearts raced. Flight, then, across their strange new bond.

He went for more weapons. The chainsaw wouldn’t start. The chairs didn’t seem to do anything to the rampaging beast. He took a super-suplex from the top turnbuckle and nearly blacked out, his pain and Xavier’s panic multiplying each other. He felt his ribs crack. They both felt Dean’s ribs crack.

It had been a long time since Dean caused this much pain to someone outside of the ring. He felt awful, disgusted. He tried not to let that show on his face, ripping his shirt off to cover. The crowd cheered. He rolled out of the ring, grabbed Barbie, finally, kissed her. “Batter up, bitch!” He felt his voice tremble. He felt hope in Xavier. But Brock knocked his weapon away and two people’s despair twined together across the space between them.

Dean could stick it out. He could let Lesnar beat him unconscious, choke him out, knock him out cold with another suplex. But if he passed out, what would happen to Xavier? He had no idea. Would it stop the pain? Would it kill him? What if he died out here? There were so many things he didn’t know, they didn’t know, about what was going on with them. With unknowing and shame and fear swirling around him, Brock hit him with the F-5 into the steps and Dean couldn’t take it anymore, a searing pain thrumming inside his head. He ate the pin, one, two, three. The fight was over. He lost at Wrestlemania. Instead of pain he felt shock and horror, and Xavier felt his shame.

Dean left the ring, avoiding eye contact, clutching his ribs, feeling the throb of Xavier’s head along with his own. He needed to find the other man, make sure he was okay, but who knew how it came to be this way? Not him. People stopped him, tried to talk to him about what had just happened, but he stammered and brushed them off, playing the fool. It was frighteningly easy to fall into. Lunatic fringe, and all that.

He passed Roman, who didn’t even make eye contact. “Better luck next time, Dean!” Dean said to himself out loud after he had walked past.

He headed to the locker room, to the showers. He knew where he was going. The feeling got stronger the closer he got. He needed to be closer to him, close to him. He wanted to touch him.

Xavier sat on a bench outside the showers. He was wrapped up in three towels, looking dazed. He looked up at Dean. “Why?”

“I couldn’t put you through that. I had to let him pin me. You shouldn’t have to hurt because of my bad fucking decisions. I don’t do that to people anymore,” Dean said, resolute.

Xavier reached up and touched his arm. They were both feeling twice as tender as they expected to feel about now, but a tender touch felt twice as good.

Dean sat down next to Xavier. The older man pulled off his boots and ripped off his hand wraps. He hung his head. Xavier rubbed the back of his neck.

“How are your ribs? Have you even let a trainer look at you?” Xavier asked.

“What do you think?” Dean asked. He paused, formulating some words for what he wanted to ask. “Were you even watching the match?”

“At first.” Xavier grimaced. “How do you do it? I had to get out of there, everyone could see me doubled over every time you…” He trailed off, staring at his own shaking hands. “Why am I shaking?”

“Suplex City is a shit town,” Dean said.

“On second thought, let’s not go to Suplex City. It is a silly place,” Xavier replied.

Dean snorted a laugh.

“You nerd!” Xavier cried, indignant. “You’ll laugh at that but you won’t play video games on my show.”

“I get nervous around people I like,” Dean said. He leaned into Xavier’s body, finally pulling the other man toward him, embracing him. “I’ve got a fucking crush. You happy?” He sighed and leaned his cheek into Xavier’s head, feeling a wisp of contentment despite the circumstances. It felt good to be close together.

“Really?” Xavier sounded skeptical.

“Oh, now you question my taste?” Dean shot back.

Xavier sighed deeply. “There’s gotta be some way to pull a win out of this,” he said.

Dean shook his head. “Two losses don’t chalk up in the other column. We’d both be here holding our dicks even if we weren’t in here holding our dicks, if you know what I mean.”

“Yes. but...that’s not what I mean. Not exactly. I just...if I can’t feel better, I want to at least feel good.” Xavier relaxed into his embrace. The sensation of growing calm and arousal reverberated through each of them. As Xavier rubbed his thumb up and down against Dean’s upper arm, the thrumming desire that filled them earlier in the day began to return.

“Would anyone miss us if we just left?” Dean wondered out loud.

“Don’t you want to be here for Roman’s match?” Xavier asked back, cautiously.

Dean frowned. “Honestly, I don’t think he’ll even notice whether I’m here or not.” There was hurt in his voice. “What about you?”

“Kofi and E know something’s going on. I told them I was going to go straight back to the hotel anyway. We shot all our Up Up Down Down spots and the crew are just enjoying the show now.”

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.” As soon as Dean declared that, they both felt a huge sense of relief.

“Just let me get dressed,” said Xavier, standing and holding a towel around his waist.

After Xavier had pants and a shirt and even some shoes, they gathered their gear and snuck out. They completely avoided a PA who wanted them to fill out an incident report about the lantern, which they had almost forgotten in the comfort of each other’s presence.

It was that comfort that got them to the hotel, to Dean’s single room not cluttered with video game systems and a few people’s stuff, without jumping each other in the car. They felt at peace and balanced.

“This is so crazy,” Xavier said, shaking his head as he shut the door behind them.

“By my standards, not really. I mean, I’m sober and I know your name. This is like personal growth for me.” Dean threw his jacket down on a chair.

Xavier frowned and Dean could feel his anxiety. He backpedaled: “...but that was a long time ago. We got a magic lantern splashed on us, but we’re going to try to enjoy it for now, right?”

“You don’t know whether you’re gay or not, but you have a crush on me,” Xavier said evenly.

“Right,” said Dean, worrying the edges of the sleeves of his hoodie.

“And you felt that way before we stood in the Wyatts’ AOE.”

“Yes.”

Xavier relaxed a little. “God, why are you so pretty?”

Dean grimaced and looked around him.

“Yes, you, whenever we’re in the same room I can’t stop looking at your stupid face, and...man, didn’t we come here to fuck?”

Dean nodded.

“Then let’s fucking get down, what is wrong with me, why can’t I ever stop—” but then Dean did stop him with a big, hard, wet kiss on the mouth. Xavier put his hands around Dean’s narrow waist and backed him toward the bed.

Dean broke the kiss, sucking in air. “Please fuck me, please, pull my hair, slap me around, I want to feel like I’m good for something.”

Xavier got a fistful of his hair. “I think you’re good for lots of things.”

He yanked back on Dean’s hair, tilting his head back, and Dean went willingly, exposing his neck.

“You’re not on Raw tomorrow,” Xavier said.

“I’m not on Raw tomorrow,” Dean agreed. “God, I’m not on Raw!”

Xavier took the opportunity to suck a biting kiss into the join of Dean’s neck and shoulder, feeling safe that by the time Dean had to be there to be on Smackdown, it would be gone or hidden among all his other wounds.

Dean tried to get words out but he couldn’t find them, that Xavier’s mouth on his neck had quieted anything he would normally think or say under these circumstances. So he put his arms out and pulled their bodies closer together, grinding against Xavier’s hip, whimpering with need.

“Are you going to be good for me tonight?” Xavier asked.

Dean nodded.

“You’re so good,” Xavier breathed. “Let me take care of you.” And the sensation of warmth and care from Xavier’s heart radiated over Dean, through whatever this strange new bond they shared was, and into Dean’s heart.

“I’m no good,” Dean murmurred, half-heartedly trying to pull away but Xavier reversed Dean’s grip and held him tightly.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Xavier said. “You feel me, I feel you.”

“Hold me down and fuck me,” Dean said quietly. “Hard.”

Xavier cocked an eyebrow. “Your wish is my command.” He pulled at Dean’s right hand, tugging him over to the bed and giving him a shove. Dean took that as a cue to flop down, and he rolled over onto his back.

Xavier gave Dean a smouldering look, then trundled over to Dean’s bag of stuff on the bathroom counter. “Am I going to find what I’m looking for in here?” he called.

“Depends on if you’re looking for strawberry lube and glow-in-the-dark condoms. They’re at the bottom somewhere,” Dean answered. He heard Xavier digging around and then silence. Xavier padded out, back to the sleeping area from the alcove the bathroom was concealed in, and he carried a few things.

“Why strawberry?” Xavier asked, toeing his shoes off as he went.

“Makes the rimjob better afterwards,” Dean said, looking Xavier in the eye.

“Thoughtful,” Xavier deadpanned. “Take off your clothes.”

Dean sat up, crawling backward on his haunches to lean against the headboard of the king sized bed. He pulled his shirt off over his head and tossed it over the side of the bed, just now realizing he was still wearing his ring gear. He hadn’t even showered.

“Keep going.”

Dean frowned and reached down to untie one boot, then the other. He kicked them off and they hit the floor with a thump.

“That’s more like it. Take your pants off so I can fuck you,” Xavier said. “Don’t make me wait.” There was raw power in his voice and it kindled something in both of them.

Dean undid the fly on his jeans, peeling them off and grabbing his socks on the way down. Now he lay there in just a white jock strap, exposed to Xavier’s raking gaze. His skin prickled with the dried sweat of the rest of the damn day and everything that had happened. He was achingly hard, and he felt the apprehensiveness and arousal of the other man as well. Being so close together and wanting so much was creating a strange feedback loop that stole the breath from each of them.

And Xavier just stared. Eventually he blinked and shook his head. He took his eyes off of Dean to unbutton his shirt, slip it off, undo his fly, drop his pants and boxers half-off. He stepped out of them. He opened the condom and rolled it on, absentmindedly. He crawled onto the bed, covering Dean with his body. He kissed Dean.

Again, words evaporated. They didn’t need them, at this range, at this moment they could feel what the other one wanted, they could almost hear it in each other’s breathing and sighs. Xavier opened the lube and stroked himself down with it, getting his cock really wet. He probed Dean’s asshole with one finger, slicking in a circle around the edge before dipping inside. Dean sucked in air and tried to relax.

“Keep going,” Dean said. “I’m good, do it.”

So Xavier pushed Dean to roll over onto stomach, and then he pulled Dean up to his hands and knees. When they collided and Xavier pressed in, it was like the heavens opened and bathed them in golden light. It was like they were one being with two bodies, feeling every sensation of each.

And then Xavier thrust hard in a way that jostled Dean’s probably-cracked ribs and it was like putting a microphone in a room full of speakers. The sensory feedback snapped them apart and into the present.

“Ow, what the hell!” Xavier said, withdrawing and sitting back on his heels.

“Sorry,” Dean winced. “That one’s on Lesnar.”

Xavier’s expression softened. “Right. Hey, I got an idea.” He crawled to the head of the bed and lay on his back. “Wanna go for a ride?”

“I left my cowboy hat at home,” Dean said. He stuck his tongue out.

“You own a cowboy hat?!” Xavier said. “Are there pictures?” Dean felt Xavier’s surge of interest.

“I can take some.”

“ _ I _ can take some,” Xavier said. “God.”

Dean knelt over Xavier, his hair sweaty and falling in his face. “Can I just…”

“Transform and roll out,” Xavier said.

Dean doubled over in a laugh which must have ripped through Xavier too from his expression.

“Dammit, why do you do that?” Dean asked.

“Do I not look like a man who says exactly what comes into his head, all the time?” Xavier asked back.

“Something else we’ve got in common,” Dean mused. He braced two hands on Xavier’s abs.

Xavier grabbed Dean’s waist and gently guided him down. “Come on, space cowboy,” he said. Dean stuck his tongue out again, this time in concentration, as he settled down on top of Xavier’s cock and then impaled himself, hard, but not jolting his ribs like he had before. There, there was that magic again, feeling rooted and connected as Xavier rolled his hips to thrust up into Dean and Dean matched his pace by letting gravity do most of the work.

Xavier slid a flat hand up through Dean’s strawberry blonde curls, and then suddenly made a fist, yanking his head down, and sending a jolt of pleasure-pain through both of them.

They thought in images, not words, as they kept their eyes locked on each other. Dean got a hand around his own dick as he rode Xavier in a perfect rhythm.

Xavier looked at Dean like he was some kind of wonder, and instead of turning away from the admiration, Dean let it wash over him. Maybe he was as special as he was feeling right now, as beautiful, as good.

The immense feeling of goodness drowned out the sadness from earlier that day, and from the weeks prior, everything that felt like it was fizzling or going down the toilet was replaced by what he had right here, right now.

When Xavier’s orgasm came close, Dean felt it, and feeling it brought his closer as well. They came together, Dean rolling with Xavier’s thrusts while stroking himself through it, his come splattering stark white against Xavier’s chest.

When they were fully spent, Dean swung a leg over and flopped down on his back next to Xavier, as gently as he could to not stab them both in the ribs. Xavier slid the condom off and tossed it aside. They caught their breath and recovered their words.

Xavier covered his eyes with an arm. “What  _ was  _ that,” he said.

“Fuck if I know. It’s good though, right?” He turned to look at Xavier, his blue eyes wide. “Can we make this good? Whatever this is? I need something good right now. One good thing.”

Dean felt a surge of emotion and couldn’t even tell which one of them it came from. Maybe both of them.

Xavier opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. Then he moved in to kiss Dean gently, tenderly, caressing his cheek with his hand. “We’re good,” he whispered.

**Author's Note:**

> And I've been blaming Dean and Xavier's booking on the soulbond ever since!


End file.
